Gorgeous
by Lady StarFlower
Summary: She was gorgeous. She was not sexy beautiful like Brenda, or pretty like Teresa was. She was gorgeous, a fiery and dangerous type of beautiful that captivated him more than the sun. Wait, what? Minho/Sonya. Warning: Sonya may be a little OOC. Takes place after Death Cure.


It was a celebration.

A whole year in the last paradise meant a party. According to the Gladers, that meant a bonfire, with drinks all around. For the gals of Group B, it meant contests, dares, and feats of strength. According to the last of the rebels, it was late bedtime.

The party turned out to be a combination of all three ideals. There was a roaring fire, and animals on spits. Frypan was king of the kitchen and all things food, and he was absolutely beaming. Gally was playing Spin the Bottle with a group of girls and was thoroughly enjoying it, while Thomas and Harriet faced off on a How Many Chin-Ups Can You Do under a Minute contest.

Minho had beaten three other Group B gals in a racing contest, Gally in a wrestling contest, and Clint in a drinking contest. He was now watching from the sidelines, totally unaffected by the wine while Clint was somewhere puking his guts out.

"Heya, runner boy."

Minho turned to see Sonya, the co-leader of the Group B gals making her way towards him. Her pretty face was smirking devilishly. "What's up? I thought you were playing Spin the Bottle with Gally and the others."

"We were, but now he's totally making out with Bethany." Sonya made a face, referring to one of her friends. "It's gotten a little graphic."

Minho snorted. "Why am I not surprised."

"I don't know, but they really need to get a room." She looked in the general direction of the couple and shrieked, "GET A ROOM, YOU TWO!"

Minho had jumped when she erupted, but now he made a 'shushing' motion at her. "If you want to yell, let's go into the field."

"Okay."

He was referring to the grassy plains just to the east of the forest. They would hold races there with each other in the times when they were still segregated in the Group A and Group B clubs. Competition reigned.

She beat him by half a hair.

He remembered when they were running. He was focused on his rhythm, the pattern of his legs, propelling him towards the finish line, where his fellow Gladers cheered him on.

Then another pair of legs moved into his vision. Slender ones. Those slender legs reached the line before him.

Some of the Gladers were furious that day, angry that a girl of all people would beat their Minho, Keeper of the Runners. But he actually didn't mind. He had walked up to her, panting for breath, and held out his hand. "You ran well today." She was gasping for breath as well. "You made me run like hell." She grasped his hand with hers. It was warm.

Now, as they strode into the fields, stretching their limbs and priming up, Minho looked over at her. "Still not going easy on you."

"Then I won't either." Sonya smirked at him, her eyes bright, and for a brief second his mind thought _gorgeous_.

Wait, what?

She was trotting ahead of him, so she didn't hear the weird choking sound he made in response to his stupid brain making stupid thoughts about a stupid girl who was till gorgeous.

She was gorgeous. She was not sexy beautiful like Brenda, or pretty like Teresa was ( _was_ ; the word still stung…). She was gorgeous, a fiery and dangerous type of beautiful that captivated him more than the sun.

Whoa. Stop thinking like this, you stupid shank. Beat this stupid (gorgeous) girl in the race and then laugh in her face like you always did.

"Hello? Runner boy? You awake?" She snapped her fingers in front of him and he started. "Huh?"

"Figures. You were just too busy looking at my pretty face!" Sonya burst into laughter as his face flushed a deep red, partly because of the tease, partly because it was true.

"Come on. Let's make the finish line that dead tree there, okay?" Sonya bent down to tie her hair into its usual braid. He watched, fascinated, as her finger danced between the golden strands and a braid was formed. The boys never had a reason to do this sort of thing, and watching long hair play in the wind was one of Minho secret fetishes.

"Oi, Minho!" He was once again staring awkwardly into space and he snapped himself awake. "Sorry."

"You okay? You seem kind of out of it." Her voice was not strident anymore but concerned. It had a softer tone to it, and Minho found himself drawn to it…shuck!

"I'm fine. Let's just run." He bent down to the starting position, waiting until she joined him and they were both ready. "Ready…."

"Set…" She added, eyes still looking at him worriedly.

"GO!"

They burst into a run, legs flying, arms pumping by their sides. Breaths were flying into and out of their mouths, and Minho gritted his teeth as the finish line drew closer and closer. Her legs were moving up again. _Not this time, shank,_ He thought to himself, pushing himself just a little farther…a little farther…

"GOT IT!"

Sonya went flying across the ground, grabbing at the roots of the dead tree just as Minho tripped over her feet and hit the ground with a WHUMPH!

"Ow…" They both groaned and laughed as they sat up painfully, hair in bizarre fashions and eyes watery from the wind. "You alright?" Minho panted, and Sonya swallowed and nodded. "Mm."

They looked at each other, still with little smiles on their faces, and realized that they were close. Like really close. Their bodies were tangled together. And his hands were covering hers.

She was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.

Her mouth was parted, breathing, her eyes widening slowly. His hand slowly trailed up her bare arm, and her hands reached up to tentatively rest on his chest, just over his heart.

"Minho…?"

"Sonya."

Then they were kissing. It was fireworks behind their eyes, and the passion was real, the flames licking at their desires. He gripped her arms as she moaned under his hungry mouth, bucking slightly as he shoved her against the dry earth, tongue licking at her lips, her own tongue, over her teeth.

It was becoming fast and furious, as she bit on his lip, and he drew her close until her body rested on his, and his hands were ripping at her shirt collar, and she was fumbling for his belt buckle—

"Ew, that is gross. Really guys?"

"THEY should get a room."

"I' never thought I'd see _him_ make out."

The two broke free, eyes wide, as Thomas wolf-whistled loudly. "No, do keep on going. I'm very entertained." He was met with a chorus of "Yeah's!" from the crowd that had somehow gathered when the two were in their own little world.

Gally was still draped over by Bethany, a curvy girl with the hugest bust in Paradise. Like ever. "Keep going, Minho! Just follow your manly instinct!" He slurred his words, a definite sign of inebriation, as Bethany giggled loudly.

"Take off his shirt!" Brenda called to a fuming Sonya gleefully. Sonya stood up, took Minho's hand, and ran like heck to the clearing where the party was just dying down. As they ran, Sonya hollered, "Congratulations on the baby, Brenda!"

Far off in the dwindling distance, they could hear the sudden peal of exclamations from the remaining crowd, who took the bait and ate at it eagerly at the poor expense of the "worms" of the bait.

"Oh my gosh, Brenda!"

"Thomas, my man!"

"You two really did it?!"

Minho couldn't help but laugh out loud as Sonya giggled. "Serves them right." Their running became suddenly syncopated, his strides matching hers.

"Maybe we should run again, running boy." Sonya threw the phrase at him like one would throw a paper airplane.

"I'll look forward to it." And as they ran, they smiled.

 _Gorgeous._

 **Hope you all enjoyed this little snippet! I too the liberty of assigning Minho with Sonya, because Newt's dead (God rest his soul….) and Sonya was compared in the books to be his equivalent. I like to keep things canon, as proved in the Thomas/Brenda pairing though I always preferred Thomas/Teresa.**


End file.
